"You sound in good health brother." The Marked one stepped forward, but guards moved in his way.
"Better than I've felt in hundreds of years." This was like seeing a very strange prefight ritual. Both parties knew what was going to happen, but they had their parts to play out in advance of it.
"You can not continue in this way the gods..."
"Screw the Gods, screw the way they have punished me for doing the right thing and stopping you all those years ago." He tossed off his robe and underneath was not a crippled old man but a young one muscular with fresh markings, I could see from where I was that the markings were necromancy, Gods damn Morley. "I have suffered for my people and gotten nothing, we continue to fight against my brothers and I grow old and weary, brittle! And you! You continue to exist long past when you should not have! You should be the one crippled and old and left to rot!" I had suspected my companion was not just a normal Marked One, it was not much of a surprise he was involved with the original brotherhood. Well it wasn't much of a surprise for me, my cynicism borders on fortune telling with my ability to guess the horrible outcomes.
"You asked for this."
"I DID NOT!" He slammed his fist down and I saw it had left a dent in the railing. "I was told I could govern my people how I saw fit forever! I was told that this would prevent them from having to be slaughtered. I was NOT TOLD that this meant I would be an old corpse governing from a chair I could not leave. I was NOT TOLD the man who had brought the God's fury on us WOULD BE SPARED! So no I did not ask for this."
"And now you bring the wrath of the god's on you and yours, this was a dumb decision." I took note of all the archers, they had their bows strung, and arrows in hand, I never wanted to go out under a hundred arrows but that was looking likely.
"No a dumb decision was coming here with Lorentino, you should have destroyed him when you met him, now his taint is on you and the God's will destroy you. As for me? I don't follow them anymore they are not my God's my God grants me the life I DESERVE! And now I'll grant you the death you deserve."
And so the archers took up their arrows and I cursed how stupid I was for following someone who knew this leader had turned to the bad side. Honestly I wondered what I was even doing there, a question I frequently ask of myself.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
The Not So Hidden Red Hand
"So they are just slapping it on banners now?" We were being escorted to the leader of Tizan, the Marked One merely had to ask at the front gate and they let him right in. That should have been my first indication that things were up, I'd have at least expected some kind of questioning when the executioner of the Gods shows up at your door step, but nope, off to see the leader.
"They have no reason to fear your government here, I don't think I've ever heard of your leaders crossing the sea, nor would they be greeted warmly here." True the Guard had too many domestic issues (still do including people like myself, yes I admit I'm a problem), but still!
"It's so jarring to see it like this." They even had the armor of their warriors adorned with the symbol, I could see why the marked one was afraid, once you subject yourself to a foreign power to the point of wearing their symbol instead of theirs? That's a bad bad sign.
"At least they haven't switched over to fire arms."
"Yeah I'd much rather die by arrows its a nicer way to go." He didn't comment back and we were lead into a large hallway, archers lined the walls leading up to an ornate thrown on it sat a man cloaked in robes I couldn't make out any features, but he appeared to be slumped in the throne, not even awake.
"How old is this leader?"
"Hundreds of years old, he was there at the formation?"
"What?" My voice rose and I noticed one of the archers take notice.
"Oh please necromancer, I don't need to tell you age is no more than a number to some." I have to say it was more than a little creepy how much the Marked One knew about me without mentioning how much he knew. Its like when you lied to a friend and they knew you lied but didn't call you on it until you were acting like they didn't know, you know?
"Wait how old are you?"
"BROTHER HOW GOOD OF YOU TO COME!" The voice boomed from the chair as our escort had gotten to the throne and whispered into its occupant. I noticed my companion tense up at the sound.
"Something wrong?"
"Yes several things, I believe they are about to try and kill us."
"Great." I mean I knew that was going to happen, but just because I knew, didn't make me anymore happy it was about to happen!"
"They have no reason to fear your government here, I don't think I've ever heard of your leaders crossing the sea, nor would they be greeted warmly here." True the Guard had too many domestic issues (still do including people like myself, yes I admit I'm a problem), but still!
"It's so jarring to see it like this." They even had the armor of their warriors adorned with the symbol, I could see why the marked one was afraid, once you subject yourself to a foreign power to the point of wearing their symbol instead of theirs? That's a bad bad sign.
"At least they haven't switched over to fire arms."
"Yeah I'd much rather die by arrows its a nicer way to go." He didn't comment back and we were lead into a large hallway, archers lined the walls leading up to an ornate thrown on it sat a man cloaked in robes I couldn't make out any features, but he appeared to be slumped in the throne, not even awake.
"How old is this leader?"
"Hundreds of years old, he was there at the formation?"
"What?" My voice rose and I noticed one of the archers take notice.
"Oh please necromancer, I don't need to tell you age is no more than a number to some." I have to say it was more than a little creepy how much the Marked One knew about me without mentioning how much he knew. Its like when you lied to a friend and they knew you lied but didn't call you on it until you were acting like they didn't know, you know?
"Wait how old are you?"
"BROTHER HOW GOOD OF YOU TO COME!" The voice boomed from the chair as our escort had gotten to the throne and whispered into its occupant. I noticed my companion tense up at the sound.
"Something wrong?"
"Yes several things, I believe they are about to try and kill us."
"Great." I mean I knew that was going to happen, but just because I knew, didn't make me anymore happy it was about to happen!"
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
A Thought On Zealotry
You know thinking back on this time in my life I went from one zealot to another. Usually I'm at odds with those who believe in gods will or power. I guess because I think of myself a god to an extent (I mean I have killed two of them don't mean to blow my own horn but TOOOOOOT! That's the sound of a horn just saying), so following those who just blindly accept their god's will? Yeah screw that noise.
But there I was moving from a devotee of the fire god, to a Marked one who followed a nebulous branch of several hundred gods. I was the play thing of the people I should have been opposing! I tell you its almost like I don't have any set amount of principals and just let the road take me wherever. But thats clearly clearly not true at all, ever...
So anyway the city of the brother we had visited in the country of Tizan was really wonderful. The people of the west have a way to ride the winds (granted them by of course their wind god) and so I could see people moving freely between these huge structures as part of daily life. The building themself were very ornate stone work and were really fantastical, it was like stepping into a weird dream, and such a change of pace from the broken down reconstruction of The Guard, and the belching smoke of Ronerawth. I almost forgot we were there for stupid reasons, but it was hard to ignore with the wide path The Marked One was given (no one spit on him, I would come to find out he didn't do large cities like this one, this was handeled by a local marked one).
We approached a large building that could only denote the seat of government and I saw the reason we were there immeadiately, hanging outside the palace were banners with the mark of the Red Hand. It was a bit jarring, back in the lands of the Guard that would be a death sentence, but here we were in another country and they were on proud display. With them I could also see troops practicing under the banner their armor similarly adorned. The Red Hand was here, and they were planning on going to war. And it was up to me to stop them, you know no pressure.
But there I was moving from a devotee of the fire god, to a Marked one who followed a nebulous branch of several hundred gods. I was the play thing of the people I should have been opposing! I tell you its almost like I don't have any set amount of principals and just let the road take me wherever. But thats clearly clearly not true at all, ever...
So anyway the city of the brother we had visited in the country of Tizan was really wonderful. The people of the west have a way to ride the winds (granted them by of course their wind god) and so I could see people moving freely between these huge structures as part of daily life. The building themself were very ornate stone work and were really fantastical, it was like stepping into a weird dream, and such a change of pace from the broken down reconstruction of The Guard, and the belching smoke of Ronerawth. I almost forgot we were there for stupid reasons, but it was hard to ignore with the wide path The Marked One was given (no one spit on him, I would come to find out he didn't do large cities like this one, this was handeled by a local marked one).
We approached a large building that could only denote the seat of government and I saw the reason we were there immeadiately, hanging outside the palace were banners with the mark of the Red Hand. It was a bit jarring, back in the lands of the Guard that would be a death sentence, but here we were in another country and they were on proud display. With them I could also see troops practicing under the banner their armor similarly adorned. The Red Hand was here, and they were planning on going to war. And it was up to me to stop them, you know no pressure.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
The Long Walk To Doom
You know I missed those horses as soon as we were walking. I mean I've done a ton of walking, it always seems to end up my default method of travel. Also on top of all of that I tend to be walking when I'm going to something I don't want to do. So its a slow method, physically painful, and one full of dread. Sounds like a date with me (ooh self insult!)
The marked one while not exactly a Mordere of conversation topics (that being he doesn't talk and the whole time you wonder if he's about to shoot you) was not a great traveling companion. He got spit on four seperate times, his entire blood line cursed at least twice, and some young woman nearly came to blows with him. I tell you being a nameless executioner of the gods really sucks apparently. People also felt the need to curse me, I guess they figured I was some Marked One in training and they had to get those shots in. Jokes on them I'm marked but in a completely different and shittier way! Wait that doesn't sound as good.
Anyway it was a long boring walk to a very beautiful city that people were waiting to try and kill me at. So like every other walk ever, man thinking about how my life goes that's really sad.
The marked one while not exactly a Mordere of conversation topics (that being he doesn't talk and the whole time you wonder if he's about to shoot you) was not a great traveling companion. He got spit on four seperate times, his entire blood line cursed at least twice, and some young woman nearly came to blows with him. I tell you being a nameless executioner of the gods really sucks apparently. People also felt the need to curse me, I guess they figured I was some Marked One in training and they had to get those shots in. Jokes on them I'm marked but in a completely different and shittier way! Wait that doesn't sound as good.
Anyway it was a long boring walk to a very beautiful city that people were waiting to try and kill me at. So like every other walk ever, man thinking about how my life goes that's really sad.
Monday, March 25, 2013
The Reality of Exectioners
We had been riding quietly threw farm country, I could see we were making our way to a village, and from a distance I could see one of the cages The Marked One had talked about, and it had an occupant. He saw it too and sighed heavily as we approached. We reached the gate to town and the man in the cage started wailing, The Marked one hopped down and tied up the reins.
"You can wail all you like judgement has come and it matters not to me." I could tell it actually mattered to him by the way his voice had changed, where as before I heard emotion in the rasp, now it was just dead, like a prepared speech he'd given several times before, which was probably true.
"Please you have to just let me go I didn't do anything wrong." The man was pretty raggedly dressed, apparently whatever he did included a town beating on top of the imprisonment.
"I'll know in a moment." The Marked One didn't have some kind of power infusion, or weird eye thing or even a flash he just looked at the man and then unlocked the cage.
"Thank you!" He started to walk off and then quick as can be my companion snapped his neck.
"Before you ask, yes its better for them to think they are free if only for a moment before it happens." I wasn't going to ask because it did seem like the more humane way. We had amassed a little bit of a crowd, the villagers did not look pleased to see their executioner.
"Murderer." One called out and spat in his general direction, others had the same idea. It seemed strange that they would be mad at their own justice system, when they were the ones who put the man in the cage in the first place.
"I give you these horses and this cart their owners no longer need them." That didn't seem to make the crowd any less angry.
"I think we should go." I've seen angry crowds, they don't suddenly calm down, if anything they do the opposite.
"That would be the wise decision." We made our way from the gate, the young man's crumpled body and the horse cart the only indications we were there.
"Will they follow?"
"If they are smart they will not."
"Is this how things usually go with you?"
"No, though this particular village I have visited several times as of late."
"Ahh, how do you know they will have someone for judgement?"
"I don't, but again this particular village I personally have had to judge several times."
"I'm starting to rethink this whole Marked One business being good."
"Oh really? Because I was thinking you'd want to sign up, had my speech ready to go and everything." So ended my dream of becoming a marked one. I mean I'm already marked, but I'd rather they be internal failings and not external. In case anyone's wondering by internal I mean within my soul, not like actual markings inside my body, that would be gross.
"You can wail all you like judgement has come and it matters not to me." I could tell it actually mattered to him by the way his voice had changed, where as before I heard emotion in the rasp, now it was just dead, like a prepared speech he'd given several times before, which was probably true.
"Please you have to just let me go I didn't do anything wrong." The man was pretty raggedly dressed, apparently whatever he did included a town beating on top of the imprisonment.
"I'll know in a moment." The Marked One didn't have some kind of power infusion, or weird eye thing or even a flash he just looked at the man and then unlocked the cage.
"Thank you!" He started to walk off and then quick as can be my companion snapped his neck.
"Before you ask, yes its better for them to think they are free if only for a moment before it happens." I wasn't going to ask because it did seem like the more humane way. We had amassed a little bit of a crowd, the villagers did not look pleased to see their executioner.
"Murderer." One called out and spat in his general direction, others had the same idea. It seemed strange that they would be mad at their own justice system, when they were the ones who put the man in the cage in the first place.
"I give you these horses and this cart their owners no longer need them." That didn't seem to make the crowd any less angry.
"I think we should go." I've seen angry crowds, they don't suddenly calm down, if anything they do the opposite.
"That would be the wise decision." We made our way from the gate, the young man's crumpled body and the horse cart the only indications we were there.
"Will they follow?"
"If they are smart they will not."
"Is this how things usually go with you?"
"No, though this particular village I have visited several times as of late."
"Ahh, how do you know they will have someone for judgement?"
"I don't, but again this particular village I personally have had to judge several times."
"I'm starting to rethink this whole Marked One business being good."
"Oh really? Because I was thinking you'd want to sign up, had my speech ready to go and everything." So ended my dream of becoming a marked one. I mean I'm already marked, but I'd rather they be internal failings and not external. In case anyone's wondering by internal I mean within my soul, not like actual markings inside my body, that would be gross.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Very Seen Hand of Corruption
"You have no name, no possessions and you kill people all the time?" I was trying my best to sum up what the Marked ones had told me (I guess he should just be A marked one, not the marked one, but as will become clear much later there is a good reason to call him the marked one).
"Yes it is a terrible curse."
"Curse? That sounds great." I'll admit I'm not a good person.
"Right of course, my mistake." His sarcasm notwithstanding, it did sound like a decent enough deal, minus the whole dying if you do the wrong thing part.
"So what do you need me for Marked One? I can't imagine its any kind of justice related activity."
"Well yes and no, its politics, something you probably have a bit more skill at then myself." Clearly he hadn't been able to see my whole past or he'd know how wrong he was. "You see the countries are talking of uniting again, though its not being done by their leaders directly, they are being lead by another group."
"Another group that can unite people who hate each other? They must be fairly powerful."
"They are, and you know who they are." He made a fist and my heart sank. "Their logo is of a red fist."
"The damned Red Hand?"
"One and the same, they fled the east and now here they are in the west trying to unite the broken brotherhood (they refered to the three countries as the brotherhood due to them being all related in one way or another), they can not succeed Mr. Lorentino."
"Can't you kill them for breaking your god's edict?"
"No, I'm forbidden from the politics side as I have no standing in the government, on top of that its not against the edict for the brotherhood to unite exactly, the God's just don't want it to happen, but with the interference from the east its kind of out of their hands now."
"And what do you want me to do? I can't exactly show up in the court of one of the brotherhood and demand they break their treaty."
"That's exactly what I want you to do." And with that we rode in silence, because you know I love to fume after being told to accomplish the impossible.
"Yes it is a terrible curse."
"Curse? That sounds great." I'll admit I'm not a good person.
"Right of course, my mistake." His sarcasm notwithstanding, it did sound like a decent enough deal, minus the whole dying if you do the wrong thing part.
"So what do you need me for Marked One? I can't imagine its any kind of justice related activity."
"Well yes and no, its politics, something you probably have a bit more skill at then myself." Clearly he hadn't been able to see my whole past or he'd know how wrong he was. "You see the countries are talking of uniting again, though its not being done by their leaders directly, they are being lead by another group."
"Another group that can unite people who hate each other? They must be fairly powerful."
"They are, and you know who they are." He made a fist and my heart sank. "Their logo is of a red fist."
"The damned Red Hand?"
"One and the same, they fled the east and now here they are in the west trying to unite the broken brotherhood (they refered to the three countries as the brotherhood due to them being all related in one way or another), they can not succeed Mr. Lorentino."
"Can't you kill them for breaking your god's edict?"
"No, I'm forbidden from the politics side as I have no standing in the government, on top of that its not against the edict for the brotherhood to unite exactly, the God's just don't want it to happen, but with the interference from the east its kind of out of their hands now."
"And what do you want me to do? I can't exactly show up in the court of one of the brotherhood and demand they break their treaty."
"That's exactly what I want you to do." And with that we rode in silence, because you know I love to fume after being told to accomplish the impossible.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
On Men and Being Marked
"So..." We were back on the road, he didn't say much when I got up in the morning, just good morning and we had to get moving, I didn't question it obviously because he spared my life why push the issue.
"How does it work being a marked one?"
"Yes thank you." I always like when I don't actually have to ask the question, because I'm terrible at asking questions.
"When you are found to have committed a crime you are placed out in a cell near the road, a marked one comes by and judges the person, if they are found to be worthy they can avoid their death sentence and they themself can be a marked one, if not they are executed and the marked one moves on."
"So there have always been marked ones?"
"Ever since the split."
"The split?"
He shook his head, "I forgot you easterners know so little of countries outside of your own, and even then I get the impression you know little of those places as well." I would have fought that, but he was exactly true, to be honest I knew little of anything despite being pretty old, its a personal failing. "Once the three countries were one, the gods fearing that this country would go to war with other continents and wipe out their people decided the only way to prevent this would be to break them into three, so they did."
"Wait how does seperating your country into 3 prevent it from going to war elsewhere?"
"When the country was united it was done at great burden to the leader who did it, so the gods just broke up the unification and created 3 nations that are constantly at war, not openly all the time, but the threat is enough to keep them focussed on themselves, and no they don't team up to wipe out one of the others because trust is not something any of the countries leaders have for the other."
"Sounds like your gods are more involved than ours."
"They are, and its one reason we avoid much with the outside world, we fear our gods wrath for dealing with people like yourselves and expanding against their wishes."
"So both keepers and jailors."
"In a way yes. Back to the point of the Marked Ones, the gods decided that to keep the peace, and to enforce their edicts they needed avatars, and who better to carry out their wishes than condemned men, we have no property, our only possessions are what we started with when we were Marked, when I get to the next village I'll have to turn in these horses and the cart, we have no country so we are allowed to move freely amongst the three, but we are also prevented from directly enaging in any side, doing so would break the oath of the marked and would lead to our deaths."
"Killing a marked one is a bad thing I take it?"
"Very much so, as the avatar of justice for the gods we are protected, though not invulnerable, it doesn't prevent idiots from trying as you saw, and not all Marked One's are as adept at combat as I am, but most people do their best to avoid us as again we are the ones who carry out the law."
"Just how many gods do you guys have?"
"Hundreds."
"Yeesh and I thought it sucked with just the Fire God to worry about." The Marked one laughed.
"Oh your fire God is amongst our set as well, I think all the Gods are connected somehow, though she has less power here." One of these days I'll have to ask Valrym about all these gods, if the people of the west have hundreds and the ones in my country have died and I killed one in the other west, just how many damned gods are there and who keeps making them?
"Which brings me back to you sparing me."
"Ahh yes there was that wasn't there."
"You aren't going to make me a marked one are you?" He laughed.
"Oh no, I need you exactly the way you are." And then he was quiet for a bit, because implied threats are the best threats. Still learning about new cultures is fun! Even when they have murderous avatars of justice who are ultimate arbiters of right and wrong and impoverished wanderers no better than beggars! See totally fun!
"How does it work being a marked one?"
"Yes thank you." I always like when I don't actually have to ask the question, because I'm terrible at asking questions.
"When you are found to have committed a crime you are placed out in a cell near the road, a marked one comes by and judges the person, if they are found to be worthy they can avoid their death sentence and they themself can be a marked one, if not they are executed and the marked one moves on."
"So there have always been marked ones?"
"Ever since the split."
"The split?"
He shook his head, "I forgot you easterners know so little of countries outside of your own, and even then I get the impression you know little of those places as well." I would have fought that, but he was exactly true, to be honest I knew little of anything despite being pretty old, its a personal failing. "Once the three countries were one, the gods fearing that this country would go to war with other continents and wipe out their people decided the only way to prevent this would be to break them into three, so they did."
"Wait how does seperating your country into 3 prevent it from going to war elsewhere?"
"When the country was united it was done at great burden to the leader who did it, so the gods just broke up the unification and created 3 nations that are constantly at war, not openly all the time, but the threat is enough to keep them focussed on themselves, and no they don't team up to wipe out one of the others because trust is not something any of the countries leaders have for the other."
"Sounds like your gods are more involved than ours."
"They are, and its one reason we avoid much with the outside world, we fear our gods wrath for dealing with people like yourselves and expanding against their wishes."
"So both keepers and jailors."
"In a way yes. Back to the point of the Marked Ones, the gods decided that to keep the peace, and to enforce their edicts they needed avatars, and who better to carry out their wishes than condemned men, we have no property, our only possessions are what we started with when we were Marked, when I get to the next village I'll have to turn in these horses and the cart, we have no country so we are allowed to move freely amongst the three, but we are also prevented from directly enaging in any side, doing so would break the oath of the marked and would lead to our deaths."
"Killing a marked one is a bad thing I take it?"
"Very much so, as the avatar of justice for the gods we are protected, though not invulnerable, it doesn't prevent idiots from trying as you saw, and not all Marked One's are as adept at combat as I am, but most people do their best to avoid us as again we are the ones who carry out the law."
"Just how many gods do you guys have?"
"Hundreds."
"Yeesh and I thought it sucked with just the Fire God to worry about." The Marked one laughed.
"Oh your fire God is amongst our set as well, I think all the Gods are connected somehow, though she has less power here." One of these days I'll have to ask Valrym about all these gods, if the people of the west have hundreds and the ones in my country have died and I killed one in the other west, just how many damned gods are there and who keeps making them?
"Which brings me back to you sparing me."
"Ahh yes there was that wasn't there."
"You aren't going to make me a marked one are you?" He laughed.
"Oh no, I need you exactly the way you are." And then he was quiet for a bit, because implied threats are the best threats. Still learning about new cultures is fun! Even when they have murderous avatars of justice who are ultimate arbiters of right and wrong and impoverished wanderers no better than beggars! See totally fun!
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
An Interesting Series of Laws
"I'm not going to kill you." It was one of those statements most people probably never hear, me I hear it all the time. And say it all the time. We had finished eating some travel rations around a fire, it had been the first thing I'd eaten in a long time so it felt good even if they were old and probably not that healthy.
"Well you fed me, that generally doesn't indicate killing."
"Actually in this part of the world we feed our executions an extravagant meal before death, as a way of welcoming them to the other side." The Marked One was sitting across the fire from me, closest to the wagon, sword still in its tied sheath.
"That's almost nice." I didn't want to mention feeding people before an execution probably meant a pain in the ass clean up for those who did that after executions, some things are better left unsaid (not many from how I write this journal I know).
"So the next question you'll have is what will I do with you."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Its what I wanted to know when I was told I wasn't to be executed for my crimes." People always leave these little morsels about themselves out there. Its like when you're friend and you just blow up a building and they say "Man this is the second biggest explosion I've ever seen." The obvious question is whats the first, well second obvious question, first one of course is why you were blowing up a building in the first place (because its fun).
"I'm still utterly baffled by your countries laws, you committ crimes and instead of being killed they make you the one who enforces the laws? How do they know you just aren't committing more crimes and killing those you go against?" It seemed like the worst idea for a criminal ever, and I've seen several.
"The mark, if anything I do violates the codes of what I have sworn to protect I am struck dead."
"Your tattoo kills you?"
"Its more than just a simple mark, its also how I knew you weren't a real ambassador, it lets us see into the hearts of those we must judge. Like I know you're a murderer and worse, but its not my concern you have committed nothing against these countries."
"So that still leaves what you will do with me."
"Tomorrow, rest, we have a long journey ahead of us and we are but started on this one. Oh and don't run I can run faster than you and will not like having to prove that." And so it came to the worst night of sleep since the last one where my life was on the line. You know like last tuesday or the one before that etc etc.
"Well you fed me, that generally doesn't indicate killing."
"Actually in this part of the world we feed our executions an extravagant meal before death, as a way of welcoming them to the other side." The Marked One was sitting across the fire from me, closest to the wagon, sword still in its tied sheath.
"That's almost nice." I didn't want to mention feeding people before an execution probably meant a pain in the ass clean up for those who did that after executions, some things are better left unsaid (not many from how I write this journal I know).
"So the next question you'll have is what will I do with you."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Its what I wanted to know when I was told I wasn't to be executed for my crimes." People always leave these little morsels about themselves out there. Its like when you're friend and you just blow up a building and they say "Man this is the second biggest explosion I've ever seen." The obvious question is whats the first, well second obvious question, first one of course is why you were blowing up a building in the first place (because its fun).
"I'm still utterly baffled by your countries laws, you committ crimes and instead of being killed they make you the one who enforces the laws? How do they know you just aren't committing more crimes and killing those you go against?" It seemed like the worst idea for a criminal ever, and I've seen several.
"The mark, if anything I do violates the codes of what I have sworn to protect I am struck dead."
"Your tattoo kills you?"
"Its more than just a simple mark, its also how I knew you weren't a real ambassador, it lets us see into the hearts of those we must judge. Like I know you're a murderer and worse, but its not my concern you have committed nothing against these countries."
"So that still leaves what you will do with me."
"Tomorrow, rest, we have a long journey ahead of us and we are but started on this one. Oh and don't run I can run faster than you and will not like having to prove that." And so it came to the worst night of sleep since the last one where my life was on the line. You know like last tuesday or the one before that etc etc.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Ok So I'm Not a Real Ambassador
"Why did they have you imprisoned?" We were traveling down the same road my captors had intended on going down, but I hoped the destination was different, at least he took my shackles off.
"Wanted to ransom me for being an ambassador."
"From the east?"
"From the west." He laughed, it was an odd thing to hear from someone with a throat injury, like a dying bird.
"You're not an ambassador from the west come on now."
"How do you know that?" Night was settling in, and the marked one as his friends had called him seemingly was looking for a place to rest.
"Your clothing, your manor of speech, that you have no marks anywhere on your body, and your hair."
"My hair?"
"Yeah its not uncommmon for people here to have shaved heads, but our ambassadors don't, because people in your lands tend to have hair and we try and make them fit in more than stand out." It seemed logical, all the more reason to really hate the guys who kidnapped me if they couldn't figure out something like hair.
"Well now that you know I'm not supposed to be here, lets talk about me getting home." He laughed again.
"Yeah sure a criminal looking to escape his crime, I'm sure we can put you on the first boat out of here."
"Criminal? I was kidnapped!"
"And prior to that you were lying about being our ambassador, thats a death sentence, and you are in the country illegally, also a death sentence."
"Seems uneccessarily harsh for simple deception."
"We have no jails, none of the three powers do, you either get marked, or you get killed." And I thought the Red Hand were dicks when it came to their justice system.
"Who enforces those laws so I know who to avoid."
"I do." He pulled the cart off the road and set about making a camp, and what I hoped was not an execution (because against my better wishes I kind of liked him and would have hated to murder him).
"Wanted to ransom me for being an ambassador."
"From the east?"
"From the west." He laughed, it was an odd thing to hear from someone with a throat injury, like a dying bird.
"You're not an ambassador from the west come on now."
"How do you know that?" Night was settling in, and the marked one as his friends had called him seemingly was looking for a place to rest.
"Your clothing, your manor of speech, that you have no marks anywhere on your body, and your hair."
"My hair?"
"Yeah its not uncommmon for people here to have shaved heads, but our ambassadors don't, because people in your lands tend to have hair and we try and make them fit in more than stand out." It seemed logical, all the more reason to really hate the guys who kidnapped me if they couldn't figure out something like hair.
"Well now that you know I'm not supposed to be here, lets talk about me getting home." He laughed again.
"Yeah sure a criminal looking to escape his crime, I'm sure we can put you on the first boat out of here."
"Criminal? I was kidnapped!"
"And prior to that you were lying about being our ambassador, thats a death sentence, and you are in the country illegally, also a death sentence."
"Seems uneccessarily harsh for simple deception."
"We have no jails, none of the three powers do, you either get marked, or you get killed." And I thought the Red Hand were dicks when it came to their justice system.
"Who enforces those laws so I know who to avoid."
"I do." He pulled the cart off the road and set about making a camp, and what I hoped was not an execution (because against my better wishes I kind of liked him and would have hated to murder him).
Monday, March 18, 2013
No You Move
I was feeling a bit better at my captivity, sure I was still shackled and probably being drug off to some horrible cave where I'd be kept for weeks until they realized I wasn't actually an ambassador (which is bad), but I was freed from my canvas prison and allowed to sit up and see the rather brown dirt road we were traveling down. That was nice! I actually got to see the lands of the west. Which apparently were brown dirt roads through fields of some kind of vegetable on our way to mountains somewhere. I describe things amazing I admit. The road we were traveling on was quite narrow though, barely big enough for the horse cart I was on. Which lead to a situation I didn't quite expect to play out as it did.
We came across a swordsman of sorts (I'll get to the of sorts) he was wearing leather armor with one prominent shoulder part on his right arm (what I assumed to be his sword arm) and a signifigantly smaller part on his right. The tunic was a simple one looked to have been homemade, I could see parts where the leather had been patched up expertly done but as a tailor myself I can tell the difference. Leggings were a scale type based on a beast I'd never seen before, shoes were black boots. But why I called him a swordsman of sorts was he had what appeared to be a very ornate blade from the look of the hilt on his back, but the blade was secured in the hilt with a golden cord. So he carried a sword but looked to not actually use it. A very strange swordman indeed. He wore no hat, his hair was tied in a pony tail and he had a long flowing beard that came halfway town his tunic. Our swordsman was walking on the right side of the road, carrying a pack over his right shoulder most likely his traveling gear.
"Move to the side beggar." The captor who spoke before spoke now, the side he wanted the man to move to was a couple feet lower than the road and had been some kind of sewage ditch for the fields and the road.
"There is plenty of road for both of us." He spoke with a hoarse voice, sounded like a long term smoker or someone who had suffered a throat injury (it was the latter but I'll get to that).
"No there is not you will move or you will be moved." I did not understand why they couldn't just go around, he was not wrong the road was narrow but not that narrow.
"No I will not." He turned and I noticed the scar at his throat and the marking above his eye brows, it was a red circle with several lines coming out of it. I didn't know what it meant but my captors did. They chuckled and then all three of them got down from the cart.
"Marked one? Let me guess some kind of pervert, did they catch you staring at a bath house?" They had fanned out to surround him, one on each side and the talking one in the middle.
"Instead of going around you'd rather fight me, you'd delay yourself this much." It was a reasonable argument which like all reasonable arguments it fell on deaf ears. The one on his right struck first, a straight left that the marked one pushed forward with his own left arm and then in a swift motion struck the arm with his right hand open palmed right before the elbow shattering the arm and sending the man collapsing to the ground. The man formely on his left now had his back, but before he could strike he took a kick to groin which crumpled him. The talker was the last man standing and he seemed better at fighting than either of his, I couldn't see the entire exchange but he lasted longer than his companions, ultimately though the marked one got the upperhand, spun the talker around and had him in a choke hold before I heard a snap that could only have been his neck. The talkers body fell to the ground lifeless. The other two faired no better, broken arm took a shot to the throat that caused him to gasp for air (throat crushed most likely) he passed out to die horribly. Ball clutcher took a blow to the top of his head that broke his neck through some kind of bone breaking magic. Which left the Marked man and me.
"I suppose you are not going to join your companions." I held up my shackled hands.
"We weren't exactly on great terms." He smiled and then got onto the cart taking up the reins of the horses.
"I was tired of walking anyway." And away we went, someone went into a ditch, but it wasn't the marked guy. I thought things had gotten better, and they had, sort of. Ok not really. No Mordere journal, as yesterday was the last one he talked about me specifically, I know breaks my heart too.
We came across a swordsman of sorts (I'll get to the of sorts) he was wearing leather armor with one prominent shoulder part on his right arm (what I assumed to be his sword arm) and a signifigantly smaller part on his right. The tunic was a simple one looked to have been homemade, I could see parts where the leather had been patched up expertly done but as a tailor myself I can tell the difference. Leggings were a scale type based on a beast I'd never seen before, shoes were black boots. But why I called him a swordsman of sorts was he had what appeared to be a very ornate blade from the look of the hilt on his back, but the blade was secured in the hilt with a golden cord. So he carried a sword but looked to not actually use it. A very strange swordman indeed. He wore no hat, his hair was tied in a pony tail and he had a long flowing beard that came halfway town his tunic. Our swordsman was walking on the right side of the road, carrying a pack over his right shoulder most likely his traveling gear.
"Move to the side beggar." The captor who spoke before spoke now, the side he wanted the man to move to was a couple feet lower than the road and had been some kind of sewage ditch for the fields and the road.
"There is plenty of road for both of us." He spoke with a hoarse voice, sounded like a long term smoker or someone who had suffered a throat injury (it was the latter but I'll get to that).
"No there is not you will move or you will be moved." I did not understand why they couldn't just go around, he was not wrong the road was narrow but not that narrow.
"No I will not." He turned and I noticed the scar at his throat and the marking above his eye brows, it was a red circle with several lines coming out of it. I didn't know what it meant but my captors did. They chuckled and then all three of them got down from the cart.
"Marked one? Let me guess some kind of pervert, did they catch you staring at a bath house?" They had fanned out to surround him, one on each side and the talking one in the middle.
"Instead of going around you'd rather fight me, you'd delay yourself this much." It was a reasonable argument which like all reasonable arguments it fell on deaf ears. The one on his right struck first, a straight left that the marked one pushed forward with his own left arm and then in a swift motion struck the arm with his right hand open palmed right before the elbow shattering the arm and sending the man collapsing to the ground. The man formely on his left now had his back, but before he could strike he took a kick to groin which crumpled him. The talker was the last man standing and he seemed better at fighting than either of his, I couldn't see the entire exchange but he lasted longer than his companions, ultimately though the marked one got the upperhand, spun the talker around and had him in a choke hold before I heard a snap that could only have been his neck. The talkers body fell to the ground lifeless. The other two faired no better, broken arm took a shot to the throat that caused him to gasp for air (throat crushed most likely) he passed out to die horribly. Ball clutcher took a blow to the top of his head that broke his neck through some kind of bone breaking magic. Which left the Marked man and me.
"I suppose you are not going to join your companions." I held up my shackled hands.
"We weren't exactly on great terms." He smiled and then got onto the cart taking up the reins of the horses.
"I was tired of walking anyway." And away we went, someone went into a ditch, but it wasn't the marked guy. I thought things had gotten better, and they had, sort of. Ok not really. No Mordere journal, as yesterday was the last one he talked about me specifically, I know breaks my heart too.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Welcome To The Lands of the West
It took a week to get to port, I don't know if that was fast or slow, it felt fast, but then again I was under a canvas tarp the majority of the voyage. I did feel warmth and smell pleasant things under my tarp, but I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. I was smuggled off the boat in a port that had none of the pleasant smells I'd experienced earlier (ports always smell awfully, you try being around a bunch of sailors who'd been on ships for months and not reek like ten day old ass, actually don't because it stinks). I had been wrapped in the canvas like a crappy rug and dropped onto a horse drawn cart and taken out of whatever city I wound up in. I can't say I saw much of the lands of the west from my canvas tomb, I could see it was pretty bright there were a lot of weird smells as I passed out of town, some different languages I hadn't heard before (I never mention languages being spoken differently in this journal but there are several different ones in this world, most of them I know, and the few I don't I never cared enough to learn, be thankful I translate everything, you really don't want to try and ponder what shorty gutter speak actually means).
The cart left town and was out on some old back country road fairly quickly (kidnappers generally don't stay in civilized places for long, crazy I know). I knew it was a back country road from all the damn bumps I felt as we bounced along. I also knew it was from the lack of other people on it (couldn't hear any). I figured I was pretty doomed until a curious situation happened, that I'll get into tommorrow. Amazingly I wasn't to be a kidnap victim for long, shocked me too.
And as I did yesterday a page from the mind of Mordere.
People in Ronerawth are better at lying than they are at setting up ambushes. The authorities don't have Lorentino, I'm beginning to suspect something else is at play here. Unfortunately my work calls me elsewhere, whatever happens to him I did my duty according to my god.
I'm sorry I'm going to need a moment, its just so touching.
The cart left town and was out on some old back country road fairly quickly (kidnappers generally don't stay in civilized places for long, crazy I know). I knew it was a back country road from all the damn bumps I felt as we bounced along. I also knew it was from the lack of other people on it (couldn't hear any). I figured I was pretty doomed until a curious situation happened, that I'll get into tommorrow. Amazingly I wasn't to be a kidnap victim for long, shocked me too.
And as I did yesterday a page from the mind of Mordere.
People in Ronerawth are better at lying than they are at setting up ambushes. The authorities don't have Lorentino, I'm beginning to suspect something else is at play here. Unfortunately my work calls me elsewhere, whatever happens to him I did my duty according to my god.
I'm sorry I'm going to need a moment, its just so touching.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
A Polite Discussion of Politicians
"He has no markings." I was under a canvas tarp in a boat on the way west, it was not one of my finer accommodations for sea travel, though I did make the trip east on half a ship once...
"You know politicians they like to be pure." He said the word pure with disdain, I hadn't read about markings on westerners, but you know again outside of knowing one of the countries, I knew nothing. Well one of the countries and that most of them have brown skin, so almost less than nothing.
"He had a weird sword that's for sure, haven't seen one made of this kind of metal before."
"Probably a gift from some decadant Ronerawth politician, which is good, means someone likes this guy." I was gagged as well, and I could feel shackles on my wrists, most likely my own (that's what I get for carrying antimagic shackles with me!)
"Pistol is nice too, a Hanlon if I'm not mistaken."
"Shameful someone from our lands would carry such an ugly instrument, but fitting for a politician." I was learning all sorts of things about the lands to the west, like I had no idea they didn't like fire arms, though it made sense since Hanlon never mentioned selling anything to them.
"You think he'll work with us?"
"Do you think he wants to keep his tongue? Yes he'll work with us." Yikes I liked my tongue, well kind of, it got me in a lot of trouble, but like my penis I needed it for more functional uses. This conversation was one of several my captors had while I was trying to not die on a long sea vogage with nothing to eat (they would occaisionally give me water always with the threat of force should I try and do anything). And so I found my way to the western continent a land of magic, mystery, and misery. The three Ms.
Now for a change of pace here is the journal of Mordere I came into possession of... through legal means of course. I'll include these after my entry for the day to put his state of mind during my absence. Surprising to me he was actually looking for me. His journal will be in blue, enjoy the abrupt joy of a murdering man.
Lorentino is missing, he's been gone over two days, too long for it to be an accident. I contacted the local authorities and will have a meeting tomorrow with a couple of them to determine their involvement, they assure me they are doing their best to locate him, made sure to use his cover as an ambassador, did not mention he was in exile.
"You know politicians they like to be pure." He said the word pure with disdain, I hadn't read about markings on westerners, but you know again outside of knowing one of the countries, I knew nothing. Well one of the countries and that most of them have brown skin, so almost less than nothing.
"He had a weird sword that's for sure, haven't seen one made of this kind of metal before."
"Probably a gift from some decadant Ronerawth politician, which is good, means someone likes this guy." I was gagged as well, and I could feel shackles on my wrists, most likely my own (that's what I get for carrying antimagic shackles with me!)
"Pistol is nice too, a Hanlon if I'm not mistaken."
"Shameful someone from our lands would carry such an ugly instrument, but fitting for a politician." I was learning all sorts of things about the lands to the west, like I had no idea they didn't like fire arms, though it made sense since Hanlon never mentioned selling anything to them.
"You think he'll work with us?"
"Do you think he wants to keep his tongue? Yes he'll work with us." Yikes I liked my tongue, well kind of, it got me in a lot of trouble, but like my penis I needed it for more functional uses. This conversation was one of several my captors had while I was trying to not die on a long sea vogage with nothing to eat (they would occaisionally give me water always with the threat of force should I try and do anything). And so I found my way to the western continent a land of magic, mystery, and misery. The three Ms.
Now for a change of pace here is the journal of Mordere I came into possession of... through legal means of course. I'll include these after my entry for the day to put his state of mind during my absence. Surprising to me he was actually looking for me. His journal will be in blue, enjoy the abrupt joy of a murdering man.
Lorentino is missing, he's been gone over two days, too long for it to be an accident. I contacted the local authorities and will have a meeting tomorrow with a couple of them to determine their involvement, they assure me they are doing their best to locate him, made sure to use his cover as an ambassador, did not mention he was in exile.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
The Problems With Deception
It occurs to me I wasn't entirely truthful earlier (no the guy giving a speech really went on that long you could ask Mordere if he wouldn't shoot you for knowing about something he did). No I lied when I said I hadn't been to the lands of the west, I should say I hadn't WILLINGLY been to the lands of the west. As in I have never visited on a whim of my own, no sadly when I visited it was under entirely different travel arrangements.
I had seperated myself from Mordere for a bit, after we'd killed off the rambler (he had a name I don't care to remember, its not even that long ago, I just literally have trouble finding the caring enough to even dig it up to remember it, like I'll write this run on sentence to explain why I don't care to get his name and it takes more effort, just to say I won't spend the effort, such is my hatred), he had gone to find the shorty that betrayed him to "retire" him personally. I wanted to shop around in Ronerawth, their advancement as a society had lead to a lot of things that the Guard didn't have (Like structure, roads, functioning electricity non communal plumbing), I had to soak it up before returning to the waste of space that made up my new home country. While I was window shopping I was approached by seemingly the only other brown skinned people in the city (its not like my skin color is unique or prejudiced against, I just swear it seems like I'm the only brown person in this entire world, until I'm not, its odd). They looked like Westerners from their silk clothing and uhh brown skin (so I'm a racist sue me).
"Ambassador." There were three of them slight build, I was worried they wanted a political favor.
"Gentleman, its always good to be in the company of my countryman."
"What country do you represent again Ambassador?" There were at least three from what limited knowledge I had of the land of the west, as I recalled they were at war with each other as countries in a limited resource area tend to be, plus this place just loves a war.
"Yoria of course." It was the only one I knew by name, yes I claimed to be a politician from a country I only knew the name of. I think that puts me perfectly on par with most politicians according to my experience.
"Perfect." The lead person who was speaking hit me in the chest, it didn't feel like a very strong blow but my eyes swam and I couldn't move. See what I thought was some kind of political favor asking, or possibly a beat up an ambassador for being from the wrong country thing, was actually "kidnap a politician to ransom thing". Because lying is wrong and I should know there are instant consequences for those lies. HAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHA, no but seriously.
I had seperated myself from Mordere for a bit, after we'd killed off the rambler (he had a name I don't care to remember, its not even that long ago, I just literally have trouble finding the caring enough to even dig it up to remember it, like I'll write this run on sentence to explain why I don't care to get his name and it takes more effort, just to say I won't spend the effort, such is my hatred), he had gone to find the shorty that betrayed him to "retire" him personally. I wanted to shop around in Ronerawth, their advancement as a society had lead to a lot of things that the Guard didn't have (Like structure, roads, functioning electricity non communal plumbing), I had to soak it up before returning to the waste of space that made up my new home country. While I was window shopping I was approached by seemingly the only other brown skinned people in the city (its not like my skin color is unique or prejudiced against, I just swear it seems like I'm the only brown person in this entire world, until I'm not, its odd). They looked like Westerners from their silk clothing and uhh brown skin (so I'm a racist sue me).
"Ambassador." There were three of them slight build, I was worried they wanted a political favor.
"Gentleman, its always good to be in the company of my countryman."
"What country do you represent again Ambassador?" There were at least three from what limited knowledge I had of the land of the west, as I recalled they were at war with each other as countries in a limited resource area tend to be, plus this place just loves a war.
"Yoria of course." It was the only one I knew by name, yes I claimed to be a politician from a country I only knew the name of. I think that puts me perfectly on par with most politicians according to my experience.
"Perfect." The lead person who was speaking hit me in the chest, it didn't feel like a very strong blow but my eyes swam and I couldn't move. See what I thought was some kind of political favor asking, or possibly a beat up an ambassador for being from the wrong country thing, was actually "kidnap a politician to ransom thing". Because lying is wrong and I should know there are instant consequences for those lies. HAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHA, no but seriously.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
A Joke Even I Wouldn't Believe
"Wow he's still talking." We had been standing there for what felt like hours, it had been at least an hour, I'm not kidding when I said he took a drink to continue talking.
"Yeah I'm not used to this, most of the time I shoot them before they get to the talking part, now I know why."
"I think the guy to my right is falling asleep." My legs hurt, I'd been standing around while he droned on and on. I wasn't even paying attention, I think he was talking about the political implications OF I DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT TO THEORIZE!
"The majority of his guards are showing signs of fatigue, do you think you can knock down his magical shield?"
"Without even really trying." And so we did. I'm not even kidding, sure there was some shooting and dodging, harsh language, magic usage the whole bit. But frankly just remembering how boring this guy was with his talking is exhausting. Like you ever remember a friend who just droned on and on... Oh crap I have to go now too much self reflection harms me.
"Yeah I'm not used to this, most of the time I shoot them before they get to the talking part, now I know why."
"I think the guy to my right is falling asleep." My legs hurt, I'd been standing around while he droned on and on. I wasn't even paying attention, I think he was talking about the political implications OF I DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT TO THEORIZE!
"The majority of his guards are showing signs of fatigue, do you think you can knock down his magical shield?"
"Without even really trying." And so we did. I'm not even kidding, sure there was some shooting and dodging, harsh language, magic usage the whole bit. But frankly just remembering how boring this guy was with his talking is exhausting. Like you ever remember a friend who just droned on and on... Oh crap I have to go now too much self reflection harms me.
Monday, March 11, 2013
A Discussion Of the Obvious Faults of Villainy
"Gentleman welcome to my trap." Large open ballroom area, multiple armed men, including two a piece flanking Mordere and myself (I was standing to Modere's right, the guy who had let us in was behind us). On the balcony was the guy Mordere wanted to kill who apparently knew that obviously. "I'm sad Mr. Mordere after all the trouble I set up putting a specific cage in the basement and you just stroll in the front door, oh well no bother I'm glad you're here..."
"Is he just going to talk like this the whole time?" Mordere was whispering to me, but it wasn't really needed the target was droning on without looking at us and I don't think he even heard anything about what we said anyway.
"Probably, if there's one thing I've found about evil people they love to talk."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"What's that blue shit in surrounding him." It was fairly faint but he did appear to be in some kind of bubble.
"Most likely a magic barrier, probably to stop your bullets."
"Think it'll work?"
"I have no idea you wield a pistol that is an extension of a god, I don't know if anything can stop its bullets."
"True, you think if I just shoot him the guards will just give up?"
"No."
"So you think we should wait till he finishes talking and then just shoot our way out."
"Sure better than my plan."
"What was your plan?"
"Fall asleep, hope when I wake up everything was taken care of."
"Trezlan I'm beginning to think you are a terrible everything."
"How nice of you to say that." And so we waited, I am not joking about us being able to have that conversation and the guy kept talking. He just went on and on and on. It was like me writing a journal entry. Except I stop from time to time, like now!
"Is he just going to talk like this the whole time?" Mordere was whispering to me, but it wasn't really needed the target was droning on without looking at us and I don't think he even heard anything about what we said anyway.
"Probably, if there's one thing I've found about evil people they love to talk."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"What's that blue shit in surrounding him." It was fairly faint but he did appear to be in some kind of bubble.
"Most likely a magic barrier, probably to stop your bullets."
"Think it'll work?"
"I have no idea you wield a pistol that is an extension of a god, I don't know if anything can stop its bullets."
"True, you think if I just shoot him the guards will just give up?"
"No."
"So you think we should wait till he finishes talking and then just shoot our way out."
"Sure better than my plan."
"What was your plan?"
"Fall asleep, hope when I wake up everything was taken care of."
"Trezlan I'm beginning to think you are a terrible everything."
"How nice of you to say that." And so we waited, I am not joking about us being able to have that conversation and the guy kept talking. He just went on and on and on. It was like me writing a journal entry. Except I stop from time to time, like now!
Friday, March 8, 2013
When You Say Trust Me, That's the Problem
"I don't think this plan will work." We had made a detour to spruce up Mordere's clothing. His usual cotton shirt with prominent gun holster didn't scream "diplomatic aid" to me, more like trained killer, and while one can be the other I still wanted to at least give the illusion we weren't simply there to kill the master of the house. On top of that I wanted to see the latest Ronerawth fasions! Sue me the Guard has terrible choice in fashion sense and their country has been garbage, there is no flare at all in their clothing!
"You don't trust me at all."
"You are correct Mr. Lorentino, also I've read your file, you frequently get captured, tortured, escape to screw up again."
"Your church wrote all that stuff down? That wounds me." Even if it was true, which it sadly is, thats still hurtful!
"Not exactly hidden your record, you made the papers once when you escaped a councilman and went on a murder spree. Trezlan you are many things but a planner has never been one of them." We were almost to the house of the target and I too felt a pang of regret.
"And yet here you are walking with me in a fanciful robe."
"Lack of a plan on my own part, the rear basement window wasn't exactly a sterling plan, I also like the feel of this fabric." The last bit had me turn in surprise I almost saw a smile from Mordere, almost. We arrived at the door and with great regret I used the knocker out front. We had come too far to turn back, well we hadn't really, but you know in for a dumb, in for the whole gods damned stupid. Yes thats my new phrase do you like it?
"You don't trust me at all."
"You are correct Mr. Lorentino, also I've read your file, you frequently get captured, tortured, escape to screw up again."
"Your church wrote all that stuff down? That wounds me." Even if it was true, which it sadly is, thats still hurtful!
"Not exactly hidden your record, you made the papers once when you escaped a councilman and went on a murder spree. Trezlan you are many things but a planner has never been one of them." We were almost to the house of the target and I too felt a pang of regret.
"And yet here you are walking with me in a fanciful robe."
"Lack of a plan on my own part, the rear basement window wasn't exactly a sterling plan, I also like the feel of this fabric." The last bit had me turn in surprise I almost saw a smile from Mordere, almost. We arrived at the door and with great regret I used the knocker out front. We had come too far to turn back, well we hadn't really, but you know in for a dumb, in for the whole gods damned stupid. Yes thats my new phrase do you like it?
Thursday, March 7, 2013
The Obvious Angle For Entry
"It appears they have a back window if its not barred that would be a good place for getting in." He had the plans laid out on what amounted for the table/desk in our small hotel room (we were sharing, I got the bed oddly enough Mordere prefered the floor, I'm sure for some weird assassin thing).
"Well good luck with that, hopefully you don't have to kill like everyone." I never agreed to be apart of this assassination, I don't know why he was laying out the plan like I had.
"You're coming with me."
"And why is that?"
"Because this person is magical, and while I have no problem killing magic users, he's a slippery bastard that has killed a couple other sin's we sent after him, I want a trump card." It was nice being refered to as a trump card, but I figure he also meant "I want a distraction that can be killed and yet let me survive."
"Ok in the case that back window thing is totally not going to work."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm not going in to some horrible basement dungeon through a small window, I've got standards."
"So you want to choose a more dangerous entry point because you don't want to get dirty?" He phrased it like I was being unreasonable.
"No I'd prefer one less likely to be a trap, basements are full of traps, and locked entries, front doors on the other hand decidedly less so."
"Do you have a key for the front door now?"
"I just might." I didn't really, but I did have a plan, sort of. Ok it was much of a plan as my usual no plan, which totally makes it a great plan. Bam Lorentino logic defeating your not so good logic person who might be reading this who isn't Nidget hopefully.
"Well good luck with that, hopefully you don't have to kill like everyone." I never agreed to be apart of this assassination, I don't know why he was laying out the plan like I had.
"You're coming with me."
"And why is that?"
"Because this person is magical, and while I have no problem killing magic users, he's a slippery bastard that has killed a couple other sin's we sent after him, I want a trump card." It was nice being refered to as a trump card, but I figure he also meant "I want a distraction that can be killed and yet let me survive."
"Ok in the case that back window thing is totally not going to work."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm not going in to some horrible basement dungeon through a small window, I've got standards."
"So you want to choose a more dangerous entry point because you don't want to get dirty?" He phrased it like I was being unreasonable.
"No I'd prefer one less likely to be a trap, basements are full of traps, and locked entries, front doors on the other hand decidedly less so."
"Do you have a key for the front door now?"
"I just might." I didn't really, but I did have a plan, sort of. Ok it was much of a plan as my usual no plan, which totally makes it a great plan. Bam Lorentino logic defeating your not so good logic person who might be reading this who isn't Nidget hopefully.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Selling Them Short, Buying Them Cheap
It didn't come as much of a surprise that Mordere's contact was a shorty. I mean they work for cheap, are easily ignored by larger people and if you have to kill them well its not like anyone will miss them (in Nidget's case people would be quite happy he was gone, me especially). What did come as a surprise was the amount of reverence Mordere paid to the little guy, I was almost convinced he even respected him. Which shouldn't be too much of a surprise, shorties can be members of the Followers, and they could in theory make a higher mark in the church, even if it would be improbable for someone short to gain the ranks in a group all about beating each other up, but weirder things have happened I suppose. Still its always weird when someone respects a shorty, well to me, because I'm a horrible racist.
"So you're certain he's there?" Mordere had been handed a packet of papers some hand drawn some stolen from a place that had printed on them.
"I don't see any one from the followers for years, and suddenly a sin is in my face and now you ask me if the information is good? I'll tell you what I told your leaders when I sent my message in the first place, the information is as good as it was when I first sent my message, I have not updated it since then." Apparently this guy was a deep cover operative charged with finding Follower hits that had some how escaped people like Mordere (how that's possible I'll never know, Mordere tended to find everyone he was looking for, whether they wanted him to or not).
"Then I thank you for your information and wish you a good journey back to the Guard lands, we no longer need you here."
"All these years and this is it, pat on the head and told to go?" Mordere drew the hammer back on his revolver.
"I could always retire you if you'd prefer." We were near a sewer entrance in a shorty slum, a gunshot probably wouldn't draw anyones attention, and we could dump his body into the feces where his people usually end up anyway.
"Whoa whoa no need to go like that I'm just saying a little bit of appreciation for the tasks at hand would be nice."
"I appreciate the work you have done, I also do not need you here any longer nor do the followers its best you find your way back home while you can."
"All right all right, I can see I can't get anymore money out of you, you're always a peach to work with Mordere." The shorty who's name I didn't get nor cared to get, left without so much as a good bye. It was fairly alarming at how quickly "retiring" a contact came to Mordere, much like breathing, the guy's first option was killing. I swear his only tool was murder, so every problem was a desire to kill. All the same we had our information and had to move on it, even if it was old and the target may have left. I can see the shorty's point about how the followers ignored him until they needed him again, then again that was the way of the world. All the same I made sure to note that "retirement" wasn't exactly a golden cloud with the followers.
"So you're certain he's there?" Mordere had been handed a packet of papers some hand drawn some stolen from a place that had printed on them.
"I don't see any one from the followers for years, and suddenly a sin is in my face and now you ask me if the information is good? I'll tell you what I told your leaders when I sent my message in the first place, the information is as good as it was when I first sent my message, I have not updated it since then." Apparently this guy was a deep cover operative charged with finding Follower hits that had some how escaped people like Mordere (how that's possible I'll never know, Mordere tended to find everyone he was looking for, whether they wanted him to or not).
"Then I thank you for your information and wish you a good journey back to the Guard lands, we no longer need you here."
"All these years and this is it, pat on the head and told to go?" Mordere drew the hammer back on his revolver.
"I could always retire you if you'd prefer." We were near a sewer entrance in a shorty slum, a gunshot probably wouldn't draw anyones attention, and we could dump his body into the feces where his people usually end up anyway.
"Whoa whoa no need to go like that I'm just saying a little bit of appreciation for the tasks at hand would be nice."
"I appreciate the work you have done, I also do not need you here any longer nor do the followers its best you find your way back home while you can."
"All right all right, I can see I can't get anymore money out of you, you're always a peach to work with Mordere." The shorty who's name I didn't get nor cared to get, left without so much as a good bye. It was fairly alarming at how quickly "retiring" a contact came to Mordere, much like breathing, the guy's first option was killing. I swear his only tool was murder, so every problem was a desire to kill. All the same we had our information and had to move on it, even if it was old and the target may have left. I can see the shorty's point about how the followers ignored him until they needed him again, then again that was the way of the world. All the same I made sure to note that "retirement" wasn't exactly a golden cloud with the followers.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Ronerawth, Land of the Gullible
You would think a group of people who specifically make money at other peoples expense (including getting them to go to war. Wouldn't be so damn gullible. Seriously I never realized how easy it was to blend in by pretending to be a politician! If I knew that worked I would have done it years ago! Me and Mordere were basically given freedom to walk around the port city we wound up in and not given a second thought! Gods if we didnt' care about the boat we could have walked around the entire country just a couple more lost idiots in the sea of machinery and paved roads.
Ronerawth had changed since I was last there, they had electricity now running street lights and concrete buildings replacing the wooden structures of old. Everywhere we looked industry was busy destroying or remodeling the world, heavy machinery clanked, some of it powered by steam or some other fuel source, some insanely powered by magic in one way or another. The entire country was a testament to stability and money being able to take things to an absolutely scary place. I hardly recognized the country I had made my home for so long.
Mordere was less enamored, because all of these new things made finding what he was there for all the harder. We struggled to even find a tavern or a clothing shop, let alone a place to stay the night. Big flashy signs pointed the way to destinations that we wound up getting lost looking for. Narrow streets navigated by horses, and some kind of mechanical beasts that allowed people to travel short distances were constantly in our path. We spent the majority of our first day there barely getting by, it was almost by accident he managed to find someone he had used as a contact before. And even then, well things didn't go exactly as he planned, but that will be tomorrows entry.
Ronerawth had changed since I was last there, they had electricity now running street lights and concrete buildings replacing the wooden structures of old. Everywhere we looked industry was busy destroying or remodeling the world, heavy machinery clanked, some of it powered by steam or some other fuel source, some insanely powered by magic in one way or another. The entire country was a testament to stability and money being able to take things to an absolutely scary place. I hardly recognized the country I had made my home for so long.
Mordere was less enamored, because all of these new things made finding what he was there for all the harder. We struggled to even find a tavern or a clothing shop, let alone a place to stay the night. Big flashy signs pointed the way to destinations that we wound up getting lost looking for. Narrow streets navigated by horses, and some kind of mechanical beasts that allowed people to travel short distances were constantly in our path. We spent the majority of our first day there barely getting by, it was almost by accident he managed to find someone he had used as a contact before. And even then, well things didn't go exactly as he planned, but that will be tomorrows entry.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Ambassador Bullshit
To say I was leery of returning to Ronerawth openly with Mordere in tow was putting it lightly. That we were doing it by flying the colors of some western nation (have I mentioned there's another continent to the west? Because there totally is and I've never been there, so if you're reading this blog as some kind of geography lesson of the world I exist on? Well the map you'd draw would look uglier than something really ugly, and frequently wrong). Honestly it wasn't surprising that Mordere would use deception, I mean I have mentioned that the Followers judge none followers as worthy of being lied to right? Like if you don't believe you are merely chattel unworthy of hearing the truth. On top of that Mordere kills people for money, he's not exactly the honest guy who only wants the best for others, he's using you to get what he wants.
All of that to say we managed to somehow get to port without being blown up. That was actually the easy part in my belief. We were greeted immediately by a large contingent of armed people, because even flying the colors of a different nation tends to draw soldiers to actually make sure you are from that nation. Seeing as how neither Mordere nor myself was, I was terrified we were going to start our journey there shooting our way into the country. I mean its not like Mordere had any problem shooting his way into things, or out of things, or anything really. I think the guy shoots his coffee to work in the morning.
"State your business for coming here or begone." Their captain had on a crisp uniform, I thought it would be a shame for Mordere to ruin it.
"I'm the assistant to the Ambassador from the West, we come to discuss economic situations with Ronerawth." I liked how he didn't mention which nation, because honestly I knew little of the actual country the flag he was flying was apart of, including its name.
"Let us see this ambassador." Now was the moment of truth, I didn't think they had a poster of me since my exile, but you never know maybe I left a more lasting impression than even I would prefer. I emerged and they lowered their weapons. I guess always wearing long flowing robes even if they were a bit scruffy does tend to make you look more political. I just think they are more comfortable than normal jackets.
"Satisfied?"
"For now, welcome to Ronerawth, Ambassador do make sure to sign in with the government within a few days or we'll have to impound your ship and yourself." I nodded and the captain and his men left.
"Ambassador?" I asked of Mordere as we departed.
"Look you're brown, people in the west are mostly brown, it works."
"That's extremely racist you know."
"And yet I care so little." It was extremely racist, but it worked. We had a few days, I knew little of Western customs, but I figured Mordere had some other plan to help with that. Spoiler alert, he did not.
All of that to say we managed to somehow get to port without being blown up. That was actually the easy part in my belief. We were greeted immediately by a large contingent of armed people, because even flying the colors of a different nation tends to draw soldiers to actually make sure you are from that nation. Seeing as how neither Mordere nor myself was, I was terrified we were going to start our journey there shooting our way into the country. I mean its not like Mordere had any problem shooting his way into things, or out of things, or anything really. I think the guy shoots his coffee to work in the morning.
"State your business for coming here or begone." Their captain had on a crisp uniform, I thought it would be a shame for Mordere to ruin it.
"I'm the assistant to the Ambassador from the West, we come to discuss economic situations with Ronerawth." I liked how he didn't mention which nation, because honestly I knew little of the actual country the flag he was flying was apart of, including its name.
"Let us see this ambassador." Now was the moment of truth, I didn't think they had a poster of me since my exile, but you never know maybe I left a more lasting impression than even I would prefer. I emerged and they lowered their weapons. I guess always wearing long flowing robes even if they were a bit scruffy does tend to make you look more political. I just think they are more comfortable than normal jackets.
"Satisfied?"
"For now, welcome to Ronerawth, Ambassador do make sure to sign in with the government within a few days or we'll have to impound your ship and yourself." I nodded and the captain and his men left.
"Ambassador?" I asked of Mordere as we departed.
"Look you're brown, people in the west are mostly brown, it works."
"That's extremely racist you know."
"And yet I care so little." It was extremely racist, but it worked. We had a few days, I knew little of Western customs, but I figured Mordere had some other plan to help with that. Spoiler alert, he did not.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Fate of The Fire God
"The Fire God is always watching over me it seems." He hadn't said a thing since he said he needed me, and we were well on our way to a new destination when he spoke again (his boat was a small sail boat, so we first had to get it moving which didn't allow for a lot of talk, he was now standing at the rudder surveying the landscape).
"You believe she has a plan for you?" I'm always intrigued by the Followers of Fire, they are a warlike group with a strange honor system that seemingly changes as often as forest fire. One week they can't kill other Followers, the next they are murdering a whole group in a purge for heresy. They are odd to say the least.
"No, and she doesn't speak to me if that's your question, but it does seem that my goals are often supported by fortune, and I can only assume thats her work." For most people I'd think they were confusing coincidence with divine intervention, but with Mordere? I'd say he might have been on to something.
"You said you needed me for something?" I tried to get the conversation back on track, I was also a little bit alarmed because we weren't headed back to the Guard lands, we were going south, to Ronerawth, a place I was not welcome last I checked.
"Yes, you know the inner workings of Ronerawth, before you object, yes I'm aware you have been exiled, no I do not care, and yes its been a while, but you have more knowledge than I or my organization." I hate when people already address my arguments before I can make them.
"You aren't going to kill the emperor are you?" He actually laughed, I was kind of worried what was funny about that.
"No, I plan on killing someone with real power, and you are going to help." I can't tell you how overjoyed I was to be on this journey, super overjoyed, it was the max joy one person can have.
"You believe she has a plan for you?" I'm always intrigued by the Followers of Fire, they are a warlike group with a strange honor system that seemingly changes as often as forest fire. One week they can't kill other Followers, the next they are murdering a whole group in a purge for heresy. They are odd to say the least.
"No, and she doesn't speak to me if that's your question, but it does seem that my goals are often supported by fortune, and I can only assume thats her work." For most people I'd think they were confusing coincidence with divine intervention, but with Mordere? I'd say he might have been on to something.
"You said you needed me for something?" I tried to get the conversation back on track, I was also a little bit alarmed because we weren't headed back to the Guard lands, we were going south, to Ronerawth, a place I was not welcome last I checked.
"Yes, you know the inner workings of Ronerawth, before you object, yes I'm aware you have been exiled, no I do not care, and yes its been a while, but you have more knowledge than I or my organization." I hate when people already address my arguments before I can make them.
"You aren't going to kill the emperor are you?" He actually laughed, I was kind of worried what was funny about that.
"No, I plan on killing someone with real power, and you are going to help." I can't tell you how overjoyed I was to be on this journey, super overjoyed, it was the max joy one person can have.